


In Another Life, I guess

by Snap_crackle_spock



Series: Another Reality, Perhaps [2]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: I guess I just found my niche in 'gwen stacy agonizing over peter's death', oh yeah also 2nd pov heads up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 03:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17236736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snap_crackle_spock/pseuds/Snap_crackle_spock
Summary: She’s on the edge of a roof, looking at this new New York skyline that neither of you is familiar with. Peni’s inside working on her robot, and Noir and Ham are still discussing the Rubix cube. You feel like you’re intruding, which you probably are, but that doesn’t mean that you stop, because you also know what it’s like to deal with the bad things in a bad way. You know, because you’ve lived it, and you can’t see another person going through that. And maybe a part of it’s selfish, but maybe you also need to get things off your chest.-Follow up to 'Another Me, Maybe'The scene where Peter B. and Gwen talk about how fucked their lives are





	In Another Life, I guess

Listen, you really hate relating to edgy Pinterest quotes. Despise them, really. That doesn’t mean that you can’t help the fact that some teen’s angsty pin of the equally angsty quote “death and I have always been intimately acquainted” really hits home at the moment.  

Which is totally gross, right? Like honestly, if you’d had heard yourself say that a week ago you would’ve asked Doc Oc for a quad-armed hug around the neck. But that was before he saw Gwen Stacy again, in the flesh and pastel. 

In absolutely no way was this your Gwen, this kid had one too many chips on her shoulder for them to be the same. Still, one look and you were attacked from every angle with memories of a bleach-blonde-with-a-black-band head and a willingness to laugh at any of the dumb jokes you made back in high school. 

A Gwen Stacy who helped him through his uncle’s death. 

A Gwen who was the first person after Aunt May to know about his powers.

A Gwen who he couldn’t save.

A Gwen who he probably could’ve saved if he’d found another way to stop her fall that didn’t involve too much whiplash.

A lot of things fuck you up on a continuous basis, but that’s one of the standouts. 

You were just a kid, after all. You shouldn’t’ve had to deal with something that grown-up  _ at least _ until you’d graduated high school. Honestly, it was kind of unfair. Then again, a lot of things are pretty unfair. Like seeing your face plastered all over the news because you ‘died’. Only, it’s not you, it’s some funhouse mirror version of you that you guess doesn’t live in an apartment with the boxes still packed and only a mattress where the bed should be. It’s a you that still manages to save the city  _ and  _ get the girl and not worry about what the toll of this whole superhero thing will be on your marriage. It’s a you that still has Aunt May  _ and  _ MJ and that’s. not. fair. 

Not to mention the secret lair, 80 different costumes, supercomputers, and spider-mobiles. But it’s not like your jealous of those, or anything. Really, they’re just pretentious. You don’t care. You’ve learned not to care.

You catch funhouse mirror Gwen after they all had a group meeting about the plan for the evening. You feel bad that Miles isn’t there; terrible, even. But you also know what it’s like to get into this business too early. To not understand the consequences of your actions. So if it means keeping the kid from having a fight go bad too quickly, then staying in a different reality where it seems like people love Spiderman doesn’t sound that bad. 

She’s on the edge of a roof, looking at this new New York skyline that neither of you is familiar with. Peni’s inside working on her robot, and Noir and Ham are still discussing the Rubix cube. You feel like you’re intruding, which you probably are, but that doesn’t mean that you stop, because you also know what it’s like to deal with the bad things in a bad way. You know, because you’ve lived it, and you can’t see another person going through that. And maybe a part of it’s selfish, but maybe you also need to get things off your chest. 

“I get it, you know,” you say as you sit down. Gwen doesn’t startle because duh, spidey senses. She just stays calm and keeps looking out towards the Hudson (you’re pretty sure it’s still called the Hudson) and in that moment she seems more like your Gwen than she has so far. “I get what it’s like to deal with loss. And I guess you do, too.”

“I think we all do,” she says. She’s still not looking at you. “I mean, we all did just have a little group bonding moment about how we’ve all lost people. Looked like Miles felt better after it, at least.”

“So what? Pain isn’t a competition. Sometimes there’s enough to go around.”

You look at her and she’s still unresponsive. To you, this seems like one of those teaching moments that MJ always wanted to have with a little MJ Jr. The Kind of teaching moments that until this  _ very one _ made you want to hurl at the idea because ew, gross, emotional vulnerability. 

“But not just that stuff,” you say, “I just can see you blaming yourself for whoever it was and I know what that feels like and I’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t. It’s not healthy.”

There’s a pause and then: “Who was it then?” She’s finally looking at you, and you can see the sadness in her eyes and it breaks your heart. She’s not old enough to have this much weight on her shoulders, no kid is. 

You’re caught off-guard, and if this is what all teaching moments are like, you definitely aren’t ready for kids. 

“You, I guess. I mean, not  _ you _ you, obviously, but my universe’s you. We went to school together, and she was one of my closest friends. And then, you know, superhero stuff superheroed, and she got caught in the middle of it. Next thing I knew, I was trying to save her and I just… couldn’t.” You think about that for a second, which is weird because that’s really all you’ve  _ been _ doing since it happened. It feels good to have off your chest, though. Maybe practicing what you preach is a good thing sometimes. 

“Same,” she says, and she’s back to staring at a river, “you in my universe, I mean. We were really close too. I mean, best friends. It...um...it was recent.” And FUCK how are you supposed to proceed after that. For a second you go to put your hand on her shoulder, but you think better of it right before impact and give her a minute to breathe. 

“Listen, kid, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but it gets better. I promise it does.” You know it sounds like bullshit. “Maybe not better, but easier. You find stuff to take your mind off of it.” You turn your head so you can see the river too. The sun is starting to set. The group has to start moving soon. “It’s not your fault, either. I wish I’d had someone to tell me that after everything that happened. None of it’s your fault, and you can’t ever let yourself believe that it is.”

You want to tell her that it’s time to go. You want to somehow offer the support that you didn’t get. That’s what your Gwen would’ve wanted. But you look at funhouse mirror Gwen Stacy and realize that that’s not what she wants. She’s not your Gwen, because she’s had to grow up older than your Gwen ever got to. 

Fuck, there you go again. You know what’s at the end of that train of thought. 

So you leave her sitting and looking at maybe the Hudson river. You know she’ll come back to the group before they leave, she’s more responsible than you’ll ever be. You wish there was something more you could do, and you hate the fact that you know there’s not. You hate the fact that you already know this is a path she has to make it down alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this in my Google Docs was 'The B in Peter B Parker stands for Bepression'


End file.
